


Warmth

by spirkybubbles



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Morning Kisses, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirkybubbles/pseuds/spirkybubbles
Summary: Mornings often begin like this.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff fluff fluffity fluff. Lanreth has himself settled into a morning routine. Setting is post-marriage.
> 
> Red Seabury does not belong to me and is an OC of a close friend. Lanreth is my dnd elven bard.

Mornings often begin like this, the gentle rocking of the ship beneath them, lulling and soothing, the wooden hull creaking out a lullaby as Lanreth struggles to stay awake so he can savor such a moment. The scent of salt and sea clings to the skin of his spouse like a perfume all of his own, appealing and familiar. His sweet husband radiates warmth, and Lanreth finds himself reaching up to stroke fingers softly through messy carmine locks of hair, a quiet and content sigh leaving him as Red's lips faintly twitch in his sleep, gifting the elven man with an unconscious smile that makes Lan's heart clench almost painfully with adoration.  
He sleeps always against Red's chest, for the warmth, but also for these peaceful moments in the first hours of morning when he wakes first and he can sit by himself and just watch and observe, private time he passes by simply enjoying the man's warming presence.  
He lays down once more against Red's chest, basking in the little details he takes time to remind himself of each morning, before he leans in to press soft lips to Red's sleep-flushed cheeks and nose, splaying his palm over the elemental's chest and feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.  
It's become somewhat of a ritual for the elven man, where he often wakes his lover with chaste and sweet kisses, peppering his skin with the brush of slightly chapped and warm lips.  
Rays of sun spill through the porthole like the hot spiced honey that Red never forgets to stir into Lan's cider, spilling across flesh paler than Lanreth's own, and seemingly setting crimson hair aflame with a golden glow.  
When Red finally begins to stir, Lanreth resumes scattering tiny, tender kisses over the man's face, before allowing himself to be pulled in, lips parting eagerly for his other half. He truly is spoiled, to have such a man all to himself.  
Lanreth sinks into Red's embrace, musing silently on how there's nowhere he'd rather be.


End file.
